The Handkerchief
by Akarusa
Summary: Draco finds a crying Ginny in the library. [one-shot]


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I guess I own the plot, unless someone out there thought of the exact same story as me….

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He was only studying in the library late at night for the test he had the next day. That's what he came in for. It was empty, and he figured that it would be the best place to study. At least, he thought it was empty. He had just set his books and quills on the table in the farthest table in the library when he heard a soft sound coming from behind the shelves in front of his table. He walked over to the looming aisle, and at the end of the bookcase was a small, frail figure seated on the floor.

Her head was buried in her hands, her knees were curled up to her chest, and her hands rested on her knees. Soft, quiet sounds were coming from her, and he soon realized that she was sobbing. Her frame was slightly shaking from her sobs. He recognized her by her family's trademark red hair. She looked up at him, trails of tears glistening on her lightly freckled face.

"What do you want?" she asked, her quiet voice slightly trembling from her crying, nothing like her fiery and confident self that she showed to others.

He thought for a moment before he answered. He decided against teasing her, since picking on the weak was a low and dishonorable thing to do. "Why are you crying?" he asked her, placing himself on the floor beside her.

"I…" she hesitated, but continued. "I can still hear him……….."

He was puzzled for a moment, but realized that she was talking about the shadow that had possessed and controlled her during her first year. He decided to stay silent so she could finish talking.

"I hear him in my head almost all the time. He always tells me, "You're not pretty enough. You're not smart enough. You're not nice enough. You're not strong enough. You're not _good_ enough. Why….why can't I be good enough?"

"We all aspire to become, to be, to achieve something that we can't ever possibly attain. In reality, we are all adequate and deserving on some levels, though in our mind's eye, we may never be sufficient to our standards, since they are ever changing and ever growing.".

She laughed. It was bitter and distressed, but it was, nonetheless, a laugh. "An interesting philosophy, Malfoy. Where did you find inspiration for it?"

He half smiled at her and took something white out of his pocket. It was a crisp, plain, white cotton handkerchief, with a green monogrammed "DM" on it, written in a fancy and flourishing font, folding in an elegant triangle. "It's based on this handkerchief, you see." He unfolded it carefully, and smoothed it out, but the creases still showed. He placed it on his leg. "You see, it's a nice handkerchief, but not perfect. It could be made of silk, or embroidered more elaborately, or it could be ironed straight out. But it's fine the way it is." He said, while he slowly traced the creases. "It wouldn't affect the way it dries someone's tears." He handed her the pristine white cloth, and she carefully dabbed her eyes. "Perfection would just take away the natural beauty it has right now. It's like a person. It's not fancy, but it's still lovely in its own way, and works the same. If someone had been decked out in dazzling jewels and rich fabrics, their personal and natural beauty would fade, and it wouldn't affect how much they were worth morally. You see what I'm saying?"

"I see…" she said. She yawned tiredly, rested her head on his strong shoulder, and closed her eyes. She drifted off to sleep, last seeing a pair of consoling and understanding gray eyes.

She woke up on one of the couches in the library, with the simple white handkerchief in her hand. She smiled, and made her way to the Slytherin rooms, not caring if her overprotective brother saw her.

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Author's note: Yes, I know, pretty boring, idea's just hit me and stuff, and most of them aren't that good. That's the end of it. I made up the philosophy thing. Yeah, I know, it sucks, don't rub it in…

"That's all there is, there isn't anymore." -Ethel Barrymore, actress


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